Beach Vacation
by LadyShinigami12
Summary: The Kirkland-Bonnefoy household has been struggling. Francis keeps leaving and then returning once more, Alfred has all but left the house for good, Arthur tries to drink away his problems, and poor Matthew is left behind in the dust. To resolve their differences, the family decides to take a vacation together, but things don't go as planned. Rated for like, 2 swear words.
1. Chapter 1

Alright, so this is the beginning of my little 'hetalia kick.' I've got at least 2 other stories I wanna do, and yes, I know, I'm already in the middle of like, 3 other stories. ANYWAY this is a F.A.C.E. story, however, they're all humans, not nations. So, for anyone who doesn't know, Alfred=America, Arthur=England, Francis=France and Matthew=Canada. In this, Alfred and Matthew are about 17-18 years old, and Francis and Arthur are simply together, having decided not to marry. Enjoy!

"ALFRED! COME DOWN TO DINNER AT ONCE!"

"I'M BUSY!"

"NOW, YOUNG MAN!"

"NO!"

"Good lord, if I have to I WILL DRAG YOU TO THIS DINNER TABLE!"

Arthur stood up and stormed upstairs. Matthew and Francis could hear the both of them arguing, though they couldn't make out the words.

Francis lazily leaned back on his chair, swishing his wine in his glass, and calmly waiting for Arthur and Alfred. Matthew, meanwhile, was anxious as he listened to his brother and one of his fathers fighting. His eyes kept darting up the stairs, where the voices were heard. He squeezed his bear just a bit tighter for comfort.

Arthur had invited Alfred over for dinner. Matthew was surprised Alfred had accepted, as ever since he had moved out, he hated spending time with the family. Francis would often leave for long periods of time as well, as he and Arthur were nearly consistently splitting and making up.

No one was surprised Matthew was there. He had always stayed with Arthur, even when Alfred left. All three of them barely noticed he was still there, though. He had to remind Arthur to give him a serving of food. He sort of regretted reminding him, the smell of whatever it was Arthur had made them did not exactly ease Matthew's comfort.

"Hey, Matti," Francis whispered to Matthew, "have some of this," he offered a glass of wine, "I've learned it helps whenever you try to get Arthur's food down."

Matthew gave a small smile. Reluctantly, he took the glass of wine and drank a small sip. He had learned when he was young not to drink too much of Francis's wine.

Finally, Alfred and Arthur came down. Alfred sulkily took a seat, while Arthur slid into his own chair.

All four of them cut into their food in silence. Alfred took one bite of the food and dropped his fork onto the plate with a clatter. "This food sucks."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "No," he said, obviously trying and failing to keep his temper in control, "You're appetite is just sullied from all that filthy junk food!"

"Hey, I eat what I want. You can't tell me what to do anymore."

"Yes I bloody well can—"

"Will the both of you please stop arguing so we can finish _one_ meal?" Francis asked. Although he was still smiling easily, the rest of his face showed how much the arguing was grating on him.

"I don't want to finish this," Alfred said, pushing his plate away.

"Honestly, you're so disrespectful," Arthur said, "Why can't you do anything right?"

"Oh, I don't know, I guess I was just raised that—"

"Enough!" Francis said, slamming his wine glass on the table. The other three looked at him in surprise. Francis rarely ever yelled. He took a deep breath with his eyes closed. Finally he opened his eyes with a calm expression. "I think—we should take a vacation."

The others gasped. Arthur was the first to speak up, "Francis, I'm not sure if that's a good—"

"That sounds great!" Alfred said, "Beach vacation! Just me and the waves!"

"And the rest of us." Arthur said, "And who said we'd go to the beach anyway?"

"A beach is fine." Francis said. "Let's go tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Arthur asked, "That's a bit short notice…" He didn't look very comfortable with this concept.

"The sooner the better," Francis mumbled, tearing off a piece of his meal.

"Alright!" Alfred said, "Vacation! Vacation! Vacation! I'm gonna go pack!" and without another word he ran upstairs to his room.

"Alfred!" Arthur called, standing up, "You can pack after dinner, now come down here and eat!" He ran upstairs after him. Hopelessly, Francis buried his face in his hands.

Matthew once again looked between Francis and the stairs, where arguing could once again be heard.

He sighed, a little dejected, and stood up to clean the table. Francis had finished his, so Matthew took his plate, left Arthur's food by the microwave in case he wanted more later, while he threw out his own and Alfred's food, as there was no way Alfred would eat it now, and Matthew didn't particularly want it himself, either.

Sighing, he went to go read a book until Arthur left the room Matthew and Alfred shared (whenever Alfred decided to come at all) so he would be able to sleep.

_A vacation_ he thought. He hadn't really expected any of them to ask for his input, but it would have been nice. Although, now that he thought about it, a vacation might be a good idea after all. Like Alfred had said, just them and the water. A bit of quiet time for them to all take a break and forget about their troubles.

Yeah, a vacation would be nice.

They actually managed to leave relatively early the next day.

Which meant they left around 5:30 pm.

First, they had to decide _which _beach they would go to. Arthur wanted to stay relatively close to civilization, and Alfred wanted to find somewhere he could surf. Francis tried his best to coordinate between the two. They had to give up on Alfred's surfing idea, as they would have to go too far, but Arthur and Francis argued that Alfred was still getting what he wanted, as the beach was his idea in the first place. Alfred was still sulky.

Then, there was the packing itself. Arthur and Francis got into a big argument as to how long they would be on this vacation. Francis didn't think it mattered, but Arthur wanted to know how many clothes he would need. Francis said, if necessary, they could just do their laundry there, but Arthur didn't know how expensive that would be. Finally, he just packed a weeks worth and moved on to convince Alfred his surfboard wouldn't fit in the car.

Matthew stayed silent for the entire ordeal. He had packed his clothes relatively quickly, and even helped load everything into the car. Beyond that, he decided to simply wait out the arguments. It was the easiest way to deal with them. He had learned a long time ago getting involved in any way was near suicidal.

Finally, they made it onto the road. Alfred was happily kept occupied by his handheld video game, although he almost immediately whined that he needed to use the restroom. Arthur and Francis bickered about what was the best way to get to where they were going, and Arthur criticized Francis for his driving technique. Matthew always got sick when he read in cars, so he hugged his bear and tried to sleep. Tried being the key word, however eventually, he reached the quiet unconsciousness.

"Matti. Matti we're here." Matthew opened his eyes to find Arthur standing over him, lightly shaking him awake. Arthur gave a soft smile. Matthew climbed out of the car. Alfred was already running towards the cabin Francis had managed to rent short notice, while Francis himself was unloading the car.

"Go on up to bed, Matthew, you seem tired." Arthur said.

"You're sharing a bedroom with Alfred, second on the right as you go in." Francis called as he tossed Matthew his suitcase.

"Thanks." He slowly made his way to the cabin.

Alfred was already sitting in their room. "Man," he said to Matthew, "This place stinks."

"I thought you wanted to go to the beach," Matthew said.

"Well, yeah, but I mean this cabin. Look, the wood's all rotten. And the beds creak, see?" He bounced the bed to show the squeaks.

"I'm sure it'll be," Matthew gave a huge yawn, "fine."

Alfred shook his head. "Go to bed, Matti." Matthew nodded and lay down on his bed. He fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This story IS actually one of my few that are finished, so I will be updating more frequently from now on. Sorry for the wait!

Matthew was used to hearing one of two sounds first thing in the morning: Complete silence or very groggy arguing about who got caffeine first. This morning there was silence, as everyone else was still asleep. Slowly, Matthew got himself up and found the kitchen.

He set a pot of coffee on to boil and started making pancakes. Then he started making tea for Francis and Arthur. Alfred would have some (most) of the coffee. No one in the family was a morning person, but Matthew and Francis at least were a little more functional. That's why Matthew was so good at making breakfast food, because he always had to whenever Francis was gone.

Francis and Arthur slowly made their way out of their room as well. Arthur slumped into his place at the table and lay down his head, trying to reclaim his lost sleep. Francis meanwhile took over the tea-making. "Thanks, Matti, for getting breakfast started. Arthur? Would you like an omelette?"

Arthur turned his head to the side, "yes," he moaned still completely out of it.

Alfred came in soon afterwards. He resembled a zombie as he approached the coffee pot Matti had made up. He poured himself a cup and drank it slowly, standing right next to the pot. "Mmmmm, thanks Matti." He said, pouring himself another cup, this time taking it back to the table.

"Alfred," Francis asked, "would you like an omelette? or Matti's making pancakes."

"Mmmm, pancakes sound good," He said.

They ate their respective breakfasts in silence, all slowly gaining energy. Once Alfred had his fill of pancakes (which was nearly twice the amount of Matthew's fill) he got up abruptly "Where are you going?" Arthur asked.

"Swimming," he said. His surliness had returned with his energy, "We ARE at a beach."

"Well, that's fine, I suppose," Arthur said. Alfred didn't look back at him, "Make sure to wear sunscreen!" he called after him. Alfred closed his door without acknowledging he had heard Arthur. Arthur shook his head, and continued with his own breakfast.

A few hours later, there was no sign of Alfred. Matthew wondered if he was still swimming, so he got out his own swimming trunks and headed out to the water.

Sure enough, Alfred was out there, floating by the rocks. He gave a half smirk and began walking out to him, taking his floating board with him. As soon as he entered the water, Alfred started to look up. "I put on sunscreen for goodness sakes Ar—oh! Sorry Matthew."

Matthew swam over, leaning on one of the rocks Alfred had been floating by. "Have you been here this whole time?" he asked, pulling himself on top of the rocks.

Alfred nodded. "He just has this way of getting on my nerves, you know?" He looked frustrated out at the horizon.

"Arthur?" he said. Ever since they were little Arthur and Francis were never 'dad.' They were just Arthur and Francis. Sometimes Matthew wished he had called them 'dad' but it was too late now, that's simply how he thought of them.

Alfred nodded again. "Francis too, now that I think of it. The both of them just know every way to push my buttons."

"I think you're a bit harsh on them." Matthew said, "They are trying."

"Easy for you to say," Alfred said, he stopped floating and balanced himself on the same rock as Matthew. Matthew could never be sure, what with all the waves and the sea water, but it almost looked as if Alfred had been crying. "You're the favorite. All I ever hear is 'why couldn't you be more like Matthew?'*"

"Don't say that." Matthew said, shaking his head at his brother.

"It's true though," Alfred said wiping his face with water, "You're the good one, the one who stayed."

Matthew shook his head, "I'm just—there. You're all they talk about."

Alfred smirked, "That's only because of all the trouble I cause."

Matthew shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe they're concerned about you."

Alfred shrugged as well. Then he shook his head. "I hate these family 'get together' things. All they do is remind me why I left." He picked up a shell from the rocks and began playing with it.

"You seemed excited when Francis suggested it." Matthew said looking at the shell in Alfred's hand.

Alfred smirked again, but this one didn't last long. "I thought that tight-ass" he motioned towards the cabin, "might just maybe loosen up a bit. But I guess that was too much to hope for, wasn't it?"

As if he had timed it, Arthur stuck his head out the back door. "You two!" he yelled, "Get away from the rocks, you'll cut yourselves!" Without waiting for them, he went back inside.

Alfred rolled his eyes as they swam away from the rocks. "See?" he said, "Always the overprotective tight-ass."

"He means well." Matthew said, "It's—It's how he shows he cares."

"How he shows he doesn't trust me, you mean." He dove under the water, lifting his feet in the air. He resurfaced with another shell, splashing water all over Matthew. "Oh, sorry man."

"I'm fine," he said rubbing the water out of his eyes. He looked back towards the cabin, "He seems more stressed than usual, I wonder what's going on in there?"

"Well," Alfred said, "I'm no expert on these things but either our dear old dads are having wild, passionate, gay sex or they're trying to kill each other.

Matthew snorted. "Yeah, that sounds about right," He said laughing while trying not to breath in salt water.

They laughed for a bit longer and then Alfred went to kicking the sand. Matthew watched him, "Do they—" Alfred asked, although it seemed he was having trouble getting the words out, "I mean, do they still fight as often, since I left?"

"W-well, yes, I mean, no, I mean sometimes, I mean, it's less of the 'I'm gonna kill you' kind of fighting, but that's not—that's not BECAUSE you left, it just happened that—" Matthew stumbled over his words until Alfred cut him off.

"It's alright," he said. "I get it." He bit his lips. "Hey," he said with a small laugh that died instantly, but he continued anyways "You remember when we were little, and they'd get into those arguments, so I'd pull you up into our room, and—"

"And you'd cover my ears and tell me it was just a game they liked to play?" Matthew said, "Yeah, I remember."

Alfred smiled at the memory, "Some game huh?" Matthew nodded. "You know, Francis gave me money to leave? Helped me out, you know. I still don't know why, I think mainly just to piss off Arthur you know? I mean he didn't have to, I would've left anyways."

"He wasn't giving you money to leave." Matthew said, "He—he knew you were leaving and he didn't want you to be all alone, without anything."

"When has Francis ever cared that much about anything, huh?" Alfred asked, "anything other than his stupid ass wine and his stupid ass drinking buddies?"

"A-Alfred!" Matthew said, "Don't say that, Francis cares about us, he does! He AND Arthur love us and they love each other, they just-they just have a weird way of showing it."

"Bull." Alfred said. "I'm telling you, Matt, I'll withstand this stupid vacation, and then I'm gone again."

Matthew stared at his brother, horrorstruck. Alfred had returned to floating on his back. Matthew didn't know what to say, nor what to think. All he could do was utter the first intelligible thing that came to mind: "G-gone?"

He might have been able to continue, but Arthur stuck his head out the door once again. "Boys? Dinner's ready," Alfred struggled and failed to keep in a groan, but Arthur continued, (very irritated) "Francis made it."

The twin brothers exchanged looks, then dived for shore, racing each other to get to the food.

*Why couldn't you provide free healthcare?


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the evening passed in relative silence. There were no arguments, no sharp words of any kind. Just an atmosphere full of unspoken tension. But that was how it was normally nowadays.

The next morning, Matthew was surprised to find that he was not the first awake. Francis was in the kitchen making more omelettes. He had his hair tied back in a ponytail and was even wearing a little apron, and hummed as he worked on breakfast. Matthew simply took his seat, as it was clear Francis was making the meal for everyone.

As he scooted his chair in, Francis looked up. "Oh, good morning Matthew, I didn't hear you come in. I started a pot of coffee for you and Alfred, I hope it's right. Tastes horrible to me personally, but you two seem to like it."

Matthew smiled, "At least you and Arthur agree on something." He immediately wished he hadn't said it.

There was an awkward pause, until Francis said, "Yeah, I suppose. Although, he's very particular about what he drinks. The only tea he likes is Earl Grey."

Matthew frowned at him, "But I looked through the cabinets yesterday while making breakfast, this cabin only has French tea."

Francis smiled, winked, and then lifted a finger to his mouth. Matthew gave a small chuckle. Francis brought the plates of food and set them out in their respective places. Finally, he sat down and began eating. "So, I've been thinking," he said to Matthew, "We should do something together, the four of us. Maybe something as simple as going down to the water with some chairs and an umbrella. What do you think?"

Matthew looked up at him, a full bite of omelette still in his mouth. Quickly, he tried to swallow in order to answer, "I think it's a great idea. Yeah, that'll be good."

Francis smiled, as though Matthew's agreement had confirmed it with himself. "Good. Good! Yes, I think that's just what we need. I know this vacation got off to a rocky start, but I think all we need is some good, quality family time. Yes, that'll be perfect."

Matthew smiled. He was sure that it would take more than just family time, especially after what Alfred had said the previous day, but he didn't want to rain on Francis's parade.

Naturally, once they were awake enough to understand, Alfred and Arthur weren't thrilled with the idea.

"Francis, you know I burn easily," Arthur said nervously.

"We'll have an umbrella, there's nothing to worry about!" Francis reassured him.

For once, Alfred was quiet, chewing his food slowly. It was obvious (at least to Matthew) that he did not like this thought either, but he didn't have an argument against it, so he stayed silent.

Francis smiled and herded everyone through breakfast, into their swimsuits and down to the beach. Arthur slimed them all in sunscreen, although it wasn't really necessary as he stayed under the umbrella the entire time.

Alfred went into the water the second they reached it, not waiting for anyone. Matthew didn't set up a chair, but sat by his dads as they relaxed side by side. They stayed this way for hours, making idle conversation. Alfred didn't come in from swimming. Matthew joined him for a bit, but got tired and went back to sit with Francis and Arthur.

"Ah, yes!" Francis said, looking out at Alfred swimming and beyond to the horizon, "This is just like that trip we took when the kids were little, do you remember, Arthur?"

Arthur gave a half smile, laying his beach chair down in the sand. "Oh yes, I remember. That was nice."

"Good old times," Francis said in return, smiling at his lover.

"Umm," Matthew said softly "I don't remember this at all."

They both turned to him and he shrugged. "Of course not," Francis said, "you were too young. But, ahhh, it was glorious. You and Alfred played in the sand making sand castles, and then, Arthur and I picked you both up and took you into the water ourselves," he gave a small chortle, "You were so scared, Matti, you were absolutely convinced you were going to drown, you clung to me for dear life!"

"Alfred wasn't scared," Arthur said softly, as if he was just saying it to himself, "He was convinced he could swim, without any lessons or training. He fought me off, tried to stay in the water without my help…"

Francis stared at him but Arthur paid him no mind. Matthew tried to distract himself by drawing lines in the sand with his finger.

Francis finally smiled and curled his fingers around Arthur's. "The best part, of course, was when the sitters finally came and took you both touring in the town, leaving the two of us on the beach, with the water all to ourselves," Francis began leaning closer to Arthur. Arthur stayed stock still as he realized what the other man was doing, fighting the urge to lean away in turn, "To do whatever we wanted," Francis got close enough he could have laid his head on Arthur's shoulder, "together." His face was so close he could have licked Arthur's ear, which is exactly what it looked like he was about to do, when Arthur finally pulled away.

"S-stop it!" Arthur said standing up, grabbing his towel and clutching it close to his chest. Francis looked up at him, his disappointment etched on his face. Arthur looked panicked, wrapping the towel around his hand. "Just-just don't." He threw his bundled up towel on the chair and ran back inside the cabin.

"Arthur!" Francis called after him, but Arthur didn't turn. Francis quickly got himself up and ran after Arthur, not looking back at the boys.

Matthew watched them leave. He was sure neither of them would hurt each other intentionally, but that didn't guarantee it wouldn't happen anyway. "Alfred," he called out to the ocean, "I'm going in for a bit, okay?" Alfred waved at him to show it was fine, and so Matthew followed both his fathers up to the cabin.

Going unnoticed was Matthew's specialty, so he easily slipped inside and waited by the kitchen door where Arthur and Francis seemed to be arguing.

"No, I'm not trying to be difficult!" Arthur said, "All I'm saying is you're trying to force things, and it won't work."

"You don't know that if you don't try! I don't know if you noticed, but there are serious problems in this family, and they're not getting better on their own."

"Try? Try? You think I don't try? I've been trying everyday! It feels sometimes that all I do is try! But the more I TRY, the stronger Alfred pulls away, and the more often you leave!" He gasped and clamped a hand over his own mouth.

Francis spoke slowly, trying to get the words out correctly, "I know—I know I made a mistake in leaving, but I'm trying to fix it, alright? I always come back."

"And then we always fight and you always leave again." Arthur was near tears, "And I never know if you will come back at all, do I? Never know where you've gone, never know if I'm ever going to see you ever again! No, wait, I do know where you go, hanging around with your drinking buddies, that Gilbert and Antonio!"

"We're not discussing them again, Arthur!" Francis kept his voice low, which made it so much worse than yelling, "And you're one to talk about drinking!"

"What, so this is my fault now?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all, but it's not mine, and it's not Gilbert or Antonio's either."

Arthur paused looking for words, "All I'm saying, is that I can't go after you, because I'm stuck at home, looking after the shredded remains of this family!"

"And I'm trying to fix this family!"

"These things don't have simple solutions, Francis! You can't expect that we take a sudden vacation to the beach and then suddenly it's all better."

"But it's a start! Don't you see, it's a start! I won't leave again. Things will get better for us!"

"I wish I could believe you Francis, I really do." There was a long awkward silence in which no one said anything. Matthew sat outside, not knowing what to think. They were both right, and they both loved each other, so why couldn't it all work out?

"I—" Arthur said to break the silence, "I can't live like this. It's just too much uncertainty for me to handle."

"Then die." Everyone looked up to see Alfred standing in the doorway, dripping wet and rubbing a towel through his hair. He didn't look at any of them, but simply began walking towards his room.

"Alfred," Arthur barely got above a whisper.

"Don't say things like that, young man!" Francis yelled after Alfred, but Alfred had already slammed the door shut. "You come out here and apologize—"

"No, Francis," Arthur said, putting his hand on the other man's arm, "It's alright, let it go." Arthur swallowed, holding back tears. "I-I'm going to go get some air."

"Arthur—"

"I said, leave it." And he went out the front door.

Francis cautiously approached the window and looked through, saying, "Oh, sure, you need the car to get some air," As the engine revved up outside and Arthur pulled out of the driveway.

Francis reached for the doorknob to go after him, but Matthew raced his way over and beat him to it. "Let me go," He said.

Francis looked down at him, unwilling to release the doorknob, but eventually he nodded and backed away.

Matthew swung open the door and followed Arthur's car.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: We're...almost...finished...so...close...**

The town was technically in walking distance of their cabin, but as Arthur had a car and Matthew was on foot, it took him significantly longer to catch up. By the time he found the car, it was already twilight. At least he had known where he was going.

This was not the first time Matthew had had to go fetch Arthur from a bar. Usually it was just after Francis left, although it had been particularly bad the day Alfred left.

"You gonna drink that, or just nurse it back to health?" the bartender said to Arthur as Matthew approached him.

"Shut up." Arthur snapped back, and took a giant swig of the beer. Matthew slid into the seat beside his father. He looked up only to see Matthew before he returned to nursing his ale.

"You want anything?" The bartender asked Matthew.

"Oh, just some water, thank you." The bartender rolled his eyes a little, but went to fetch the water.

Arthur lay his chin down on the bar. "So," he said to Matthew, "You here to fetch me back?"

Matthew shrugged. "If you're ready to go back."

"Yeah, well, I'm not," He said abruptly, "For once, I do the leaving," He gripped the ale tightly, "He—He really hates me doesn't me?"

"Which one?" Matthew asked without thinking.

Arthur smirked. "It really has gotten to the point where they both hate me, hasn't it?"

"No, that's not what I—"

"It's alright," Arthur said, cutting him off, "In this particular instance, I was referring to Alfred."

"Ah, well, I would say he doesn't hate you. And Francis doesn't either."

"He does," Arthur said, "I can see it in his eyes. We—we can't even be in the same room together without arguing. I'm just trying to help him, why can't he see that? Why does he have to fight me on everything? It's not like I ask for that much. I just wanna protect him and keep him home, you know?"

Looking at Arthur's bottle, Matthew could tell he had only drank half of it, however despite how often he would come out for alcohol, he had never been able to hold it very well. Already his speech was starting to slur and Matthew could tell he wasn't really in control of what he was saying.

"I'm just—I'm so tired. I'm sick of being the bad guy. I'm always the one to tell him not to do things, to be responsible, and I'm tired of him hating me for it! I'm sorry but these things have to be done and no one else is doing them. He-he's too reckless! He'll get himself hurt."

"Maybe—" Matthew said softly, "Maybe, I think, all he wants is a chance. He doesn't feel like you trust him enough to think of these things on his own—"

"Because he doesn't think of these things on his own!" Arthur interrupted him, "He—he—he's gonna get himself hurt, or in trouble, or—I don't even know. And what am I supposed to do then, huh? It's simply ridiculous."

"He just trying to prove himself." Matthew said as Arthur took a break from his rant to take another gulp, "He wants you to believe in him."

"And as for Francis," Arthur continued on as if Matthew hadn't said anything, "I don't even know what to do about him. He keeps saying he loves me, but that doesn't seem to stop him from leaving. And then like an idiot, I let him come back just so he can leave again. I should—I should just kick him out." He sat up from the counter with a strange smile on his face, "Yeah! That way he doesn't have the chance to leave me!"

Taking that as his cue, Matthew subtly took away Arthur's bottle. "I think you've had enough," he said.

Arthur didn't seem to be listening. "C'mon, Matthew, let's go home, I wanna give that man a piece of my mind," Arthur stood up with resolve and marched to the door.

"Uh, Arthur," Matthew said, getting up and chasing after him. He caught up to him outside the bar. It was strangely quiet and cold in comparison to the bar. Night had fully fallen now. "This is a bad idea."

"No, if he's going to leave he better stay gone. I'm sick of being left alone all the time."

Matthew stopped in his tracks at those words.

Arthur soon realized Matthew wasn't following him, and turned to see him. Finding the look on Matthew's face, the meaning of his words came to him. "Oh, Matt," Arthur said turning back towards him, "Matti, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that." He hugged Matthew, burying his face in Matthew's shoulder, "I wasn't alone. You were always there for me, Matti. No matter what, you stayed by my side."

Matthew couldn't think of a proper response, so he lightly hugged back. He knew it was only because Arthur was partially drunk, but he clinged to his son tightly. "Maybe you should have left," Arthur said into Matthew's coat, "I-I wasn't a very good father, was I?"

"Don't say that!" Matthew said, "You—you always cared for us. You did whatever you could, no matter what."

Arthur held him there a moment longer, and Matthew realized he was crying. "I'm sorry," He whimpered, "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Matthew comforted him, "Let's go back, C'mon. No, I better drive," Matthew gently took the keys from his father, and they got into the car.

"I'm gonna do it," Arthur said once Matthew started the car, "I'm gonna finally leave him." Matthew looked at him in shock.

"That's a bad idea," He almost whispered.

"It has to be done," It sounded more like he was telling himself than Matthew.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Matthew wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. What does one say in that kind of situation?

Finally they made it home. Arthur walked in first.

Francis was dozing on the couch, but his head popped up when he heard the door. He had a small bouquet of wild flowers in his hand. He quickly stood up, holding the flowers in front of him.

For a moment Francis and Arthur merely stared at each other across the room. The look in Francis eyes was of worry, mixed with hope. Remembering the flowers in his hand, he held them out to Arthur.

"Are those from the front yard?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Francis said with a shrug, "I didn't have much time to get a real bouquet."

"I don't think we're supposed to take those," Arthur said, his voice wavering.

Francis shrugged again. Then, with a small 'oh' he pressed a button on his computer which he had set out on the table. It began playing a sweet French waltz. "Do you remember this song?" Francis asked, slowly approaching Arthur. Matthew backed away quickly and let the scene unfold. "We played it, all those years ago, last time we went to the beach? And we danced in the moonlight, not even realizing time was passing."

Tears were beginning to well up in Arthur's eyes. Francis reached him, and putting the flowers aside, he gently took one of Arthur's hands, and put the other hand on his hip. "I'm sorry," he said softly, laying his head against Arthur's. "If I could take everything I ever did or said to upset you I would. But I have to live with what I've done. All I want to do is make it up to you. So I'll keep apologizing, until the end of time, if I must. I'm sorry. I am so, so incredibly sorry. I love you."

Francis pulled Arthur in closer, so Arthur's head was on his shoulder. He clinged to Francis' shirt, and Matthew saw tears leaking out his eyes. "I can't," He muttered softly, then with a slightly stronger voice "I can't do it."

"Can't do what?" Francis pulled back enough to look into his eyes.

Arthur's eyes drooped. "Nevermind," and he reached up to kiss his lover.

Matthew smiled as he his fathers held each other. Francis held Arthur's face and swayed them in time to the music. Finally, they pulled away from one another. "It still won't be easy," Arthur practically whispered "It-it'll take work on both out parts. I-I'm not sure I'm ready to completely forgive. But I'm sorry too. And I love you."

Francis smiled, curling his fingers in Arthur's hair. "I know. We just have to—"

A door slammed behind them. They all turned around to see Alfred standing there, shock and anger etched on his face. Arthur started towards him, "Alfred—"

"Where have you been?" Alfred cut him off, "Drinking your ass off again?"

"Alfred, it's not like that—"

"No wonder you both are so 'perfect' for each other!" Alfred said, his voice's volume rising, "Whenever things go wrong the both of you can just drink away all your problems!"

"That's not what happened—"

"You bastard! You fucking bastard! Why did you even come back? You'll just go out and drink again!"

"Don't use that language!" Francis yelled.

"Alfred, you're exaggerating!"

"Then tell me you haven't been drinking!"

"You don't know the full story!"

"Like I need to!"

"I will not have you judging MY actions!"

"You're not the boss of me anymore, I'll judge whoever the hell I want!"

"You ungrateful wretch, don't you know anything of what we've done for you your entire life?

"STOP IT!" Matthew screamed at the top of his lungs. They all turned to stare at him as if they forgot he was there, which he guessed they did, it had happened often enough. There was silence other than the French waltz that was still playing off Francis's computer. "Just stop." Matthew begged tears starting to fall out of his eyes. He couldn't stay in this room there was too much tension in the air. So, without another word, he took off through the back door and into the night.


End file.
